


The Phantom Comes Home

by Wedgely



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Action, Angst, But it's Danny, Family, Friendship, Full Ghost Danny Fenton, Gen, Headcanon, I like it when Danny's a spooky ghost, Major character death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wedgely/pseuds/Wedgely
Summary: Danny's been dead for a long time. Five years, to be exact. After an agonizing end inside his parents ghost portal, and being reformed as a ghost, Danny has spent his afterlife desperately trying to protect his previous home from spectral enemies, while avoiding his family and friends lest they look upon him in disgust.But some things can't be put off forever, and when his family is targeted directly, Danny is forced to reunite with the ones he loves to protect them. He'll be damned if he lets them get hurt, whether they think he's a monster or not.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Sam Manson
Comments: 41
Kudos: 259





	1. Prologue - Death is a Drag

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooooo! You have no clue how excited I am to finally write a DP fic! The Phandom sucked me in, you better believe it. This is mainly something for me to write on when I hit a wall with Artificial, which is my main story ATM, but I'm still hoping to update this one semi-regularly.
> 
> Either way, I really hope you enjoy!

Death really changes the way you look at the world.  
  
Or, _worlds_ , in this case.  
  
When Danny Fenton stepped into his parents portal at the tender age of 16, it had been a bit of fun. The white and black jumpsuit he wore exuded a charming Buck Rogers vibe. His friends giggled and played amature photographers as he exaggeratedly posed inside the hulking metal frame. There was no danger. Of course not! The thing didn’t work. It didn’t work because ghosts weren’t real, and his parents were nutcases.  
  
But as Danny ventured further back into the expanse, the lights from the lab illuminated less and less of the uneven, bulky surfaces of the tunnel. All it took was one tiny misstep. One foot landed awkwardly on the edge of some bespoke conduit, and sent the rest of the lanky teenager tumbling into the side of the chamber. He had just enough time to hear the click reverberating through the metal chasm, and to read the words “AUXILIARY POWER” in large yellow letters on the panel, before his vision was engulfed in green, his nerves drowned in agony, and his life came to an end.

  
  


*** * ***

That was five long years ago. Five years since he’d been human. Five years since he’d been _alive_. Even now, it still stung to imagine what might have been if he hadn’t smacked into that damn switch. If his parents had just remembered to engage the internal power supply when they tested it the first time.  
  
If...if…if...  
  
But “what if’s” are no good to anyone.  
  
He’d reformed in the Ghost Zone shortly thereafter, or the Infinite Realms as the locals called it. He hadn’t been sure then how much time had passed since the accident, but it couldn’t have been more than a week. He had been terrified, confused, heartbroken, and worst of all, directionless. Ghosts weren’t supposed to be real, the portal wasn’t supposed to work, his parents weren’t supposed to be right! But they were right, the portal _did_ work, and not only did ghosts exist, he was one of them.  
  
Life, or whatever that word meant, in the Realms could be hostile, especially for a newly formed ghost. But compassion and kindness were not lost in death, and soon he found friends. Sidney, Wulf, Frostbite, all of whom he learned to love dearly as he carved out his own niche in this ethereal world. But there was one with whom he held a deeply personal connection: the first ghost he’d ever encountered, the one who guided him, taught him, and listened to him.  
  
His mentor, and the only parental figure he’d known for the past five years: Clockwork.  
  
Danny had found the tower shortly after his formation, which he now realized was almost certainly intentional on the elder ghost’s part. Clockwork, as cryptic as he could be, provided the young specter with a wealth of information, and comforted him during his grieving. His presence was invaluable, and Danny was sure that without it, he’d still be drifting through the emerald abyss of the Zone, an ectoplasmic husk of what he once was.  
  
It would be a while before Danny was able to examine his reflection, but once he did, it truly crashed down on him that he no longer could count himself as one of the living. His bushy, often mussed-up hair had gone from a raven black to a striking pearlescent white that floated in a nonexistent breeze. The jumpsuit in which he'd died had inverted its colors, now a black that was dark as night with white accents to match his locks. Blinding, neon green eyes stared at him through the glass, and his skin had adopted a light but noticeable bluish tint. Pointed ears and sharp fangs that were visible any time his mouth was open completed the image.  
  
"In the Infinite Realms," Clockwork had explained, "those who succeed, and those who thrive, are the powerful. Force and might are the language of ghosts, but the most powerful of ghosts are the ones who manage to maintain their sense of self in death. The strength of the mind is married to the strength of the core."  
  
Of course, Danny had little interest in strength or conquest. He was just a kid who died far too young and would really just like to come to grips with his afterlife in peace, thank you very much. But then he’d learned that, due in no small part to his actions, the Fenton Portal was now 100% operational.  
  
And that was causing some problems.  
  
Ghosts, now with a readily available and stable gateway to the land of the living, were running amok on Earth, with a particular focus on Amity Park for obvious reasons. So, without delay, he began training. Many of his abilities came innately, the result of some form of ghost instinct. Walking through walls, disappearing, flying, they all came naturally enough. It was the offensive tactics that required the most work, and he hadn’t had much time to perfect them before he was wrangling and tussling with all manner of ghostly horrors both inside and out of the Zone. It was trial by fire.  
  
He developed quickly, though. Clockwork offered the theory that the sheer amount of supercharged ectoplasm involved in Danny's death, combined with his strong emotional attachment to his friends and family in life imbued him with natural power. By a year after his death, Danny was regularly doing away with ghosts decades older than him, and catching the eyes of many powerful figures in the Realms.  
  
His escapades had been largely unnoticed in the material world, however, and this was no mistake. Danny had no intention of running into his friends or, God forbid, his parents as...this. He was a monster, an abomination, an unnatural creature whose only use was to be strapped onto a lab table and be destroyed molecule by molecule. That’s what he had heard all his life, and his parents’ vehemence had been so great back then that there was no doubt in his mind they would eviscerate him on sight if they got the chance.  
  
So, he kept his bounty hunting on the down-low, fighting while invisible or high above the cloud layers. Over the years, this had become less of a problem, as many human ghost hunters had established themselves as more than capable of handling the new ghostly threat. His parents, The Guys in White, the Red Huntress, and even Sam and Tucker had adapted quite well, and over time, Amity Park found itself...well, definitely not ghost-free, but at a manageable level of spectral activity, which meant most of Danny’s battles took place within the Realms.  
  
A mere three years after his death, Danny had established himself as one of the most powerful ghosts in all of the Zone, and few dared to challenge him for anything more than a sparring match. He had established a sort of authority, and there was an unwritten rule that as long as Danny Phantom was around, messing with the material world was a less-than-wise decision. This was solidified with the resurgence and subsequent defeat of Pariah Dark.  
  
It was a brutal battle, to be sure, and one that was very nearly lost. But when the most horrid, wretched ruler the Realms had ever seen was finally laid low by a young ghost only a few years removed from death, even those who detested the Phantom’s peculiar attachment to humans were forced to recognize his courage. An attempt was made to crown Danny the new official King of Ghosts; he emphatically refused.  
  
As a result, the past few years had been relatively quiet. Danny had spread the word that he had no qualms about ghosts entering the material world so long as they weren’t causing trouble, but that anyone who attempted to harm or otherwise harass any humans would be subjected to some...gentle persuasion. Needless to say, most of the Infinite Realms’ denizens abided by this request with minimal protest.  
  
But it was during this peace that Danny paid an incidental visit to his mentor, and was confronted with the most monumental task he had faced thus far in all his afterlife.  
  
“I don’t follow,” he had commented after Clockwork had, mysteriously as always, informed him of a nondescript trouble brewing on the other side of the rift, “All the usual suspects have been playing nice lately, yeah?”  
  
Danny floated lazily on his back, scanning the countless viewing screens littering the lair. All of time was perpetually on display in Clockwork’s domain, though Danny knew very well that he would only see what Clockwork allowed him to. Only the Master of Time was allowed full knowledge of the Parade.  
  
“That’s true, Daniel,” the Ancient replied, his voice wrapped in silky stoicism, “But this doesn’t concern the Realms, at least not directly, but rather you personally.”  
  
This peaked Danny’s interest, and not in an entirely good way, “Me? I haven’t lived in the material world in five years. I’ve barely even been there except to fight ghosts!”  
  
Clockwork turned to meet his young protege’s acid green eyes, and dreaded the pain he knew would flood them after his next words.

"What are you getting at, here, CW?"  
  
“The issue, as it stands, begins with Jack and Madeline Fenton.”

*** * ***

And so Danny Phantom floated above Amity Park, looking down on the town he’d called home in life so many years ago, the place he thought he’d lost forever and filled with people he’d vowed never to burden with his ghostly presence, and wondered just where the hell he would even begin.


	2. An Audience with King Tuck

It had to be Tucker. It had to be.

They’d been friends since kindergarten. Since the _first day_ of kindergarten, when they’d immediately struck up a conversation about some cartoon and prattled on about it at length with all the eloquence one would expect of two five-year-olds with far too much sugary cereal pumping through their veins.

Danny honestly couldn’t remember a time Tucker Foley hadn’t been there for him. Sam was a trusted friend, and he loved her more than he could put into words, but she had come into the picture much later. There are some bonds that only time can form, and as Danny floated invisibly outside the brownstone townhouse he’d visited countless times before, he could only hope those bonds had the power to last through death.

Of course, this was all assuming that Tucker was even home. Danny knew very well that both he and Sam had to have graduated by now, and were no doubt accepted to some prestigious university or another. However, it was currently June, so with any luck they would have come home for the summer, and hopefully he’d be able to approach at least one of them.

Danny drifted upward and around the back of the house, easily finding the window belonging to his best friend’s room. Thankfully, there was no ghost shield installed anywhere on the premises. He figured they must not be cost-effective enough for consumer use yet, since they were all over the public buildings downtown, but he couldn’t be sure; he hadn’t been inside a human dwelling in such a long time.

Danny phased through the window, making absolutely certain he was still invisible, and assessed his surroundings. The basics of the room were more or less as expected. The bed was in the same spot, and some of the Doomed and Dumpty Humpty posters were still where he remembered them from the multitude of sleepovers. Other aspects were different, as one would expect after such a long time. Tucker obviously was still as much of a tech nerd as he’d been five years ago, but his scope had seemingly advanced drastically, and gadgets and gizmos littered a workspace that was magnitudes larger than the small desk that had previously occupied the corner of the room. Two giant monitors glared down at the ghost, connected to a CPU that was undoubtedly modded to hell and back.

Time changes a lot of things, but it would never pull Friar Tuck away from technology.

“Yeah, mom, that’ll be fine!” he heard echo from the bottom of the stairs. The voice, even after so long, was achingly familiar. It was slightly deeper, a little less squeaky, but it was instantly recognizable as his best friend. Danny almost broke down right then and there.

He pulled himself together quickly, though, as Tucker himself strolled into the room, a satchel over one shoulder and a can of soda in-hand. In terms of personality, it seemed he’d changed very little. Physically, on the other hand, it was another story.

The most striking difference was the lack of his trademark beret, which had been supplanted by an impressive set of dreadlocks. Danny remembered him mentioning a few times how he’d always wanted to try dreads; he must have finally gone through with it. The young man also sported a neatly trimmed goatee, which Danny thought suited him quite well. One thing that hadn’t changed, though, was the thick-rimmed glasses atop his nose. “Nerd-chic” he’d called it. Apparently in geek fashion some things just never go out of style.

Danny floated in the center of the room, careful to maneuver around Tucker as he walked over to his workstation. How was he supposed to initiate this conversation? If he was honest with himself, he really hadn’t thought this through very well. The more he thought about it, it seemed like there was no way to get Tucker’s attention without also scaring the absolute piss out of him in the process. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, for Danny, the universe decided to take the problem out of his hands.

_Ghost detected, six feet._

A Fenton Finder.

“Jesus!” Tucker yelped, and nearly toppled out of his chair. He ripped open a nearby drawer and brandished an ectopistol, Fenton model by the looks of it, as he staggered back toward the wall. Danny instinctively floated back. The small pistol wouldn’t do too much damage to him, even if it was a direct hit, but he would still love to avoid being shot in the face regardless.

“Show yourself!” the human hollered, though his voice was not as steady as he’d probably intended.

“Okay, okay. Don’t shoot,” Danny’s otherworldly timbre responded, and slowly he allowed his form to become visible.

Tucker’s grip on the weapon only tightened, and he locked his aim onto Danny, “Look, I don’t know what you want, but you need to leave, or I’ll call the Fentons.”

That was a bit of a punch to the gut, but Danny couldn’t blame Tucker for not recognizing him. It had been so long, and he looked so different. He needed to talk this situation down before it became a scene, and he _definitely_ didn’t want to have to confront his parents yet.

“Hey, just put the gun down. I’m not here for any trouble.”

“Ghosts are always here for trouble. Now what do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you.”

Tucker’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. His voice had stopped wavering, which was a good sign, but he was still plainly far from comfortable. Once again, Danny could hardly blame him. After some of the things ghosts had done on Earth in the past...well, Danny had done his best, but people had still been hurt, lives had been lost. Nobody’s perfect.

“Talk? To _me_? Why?”

“Tucker…”

“How do you know my name?”

Danny drifted closer, making sure to telegraph his movements as much as he could, until he was within only a few feet of his friend, who had begun to lower the pistol.

“Look at me,” the ghost said, “Really look. I know I’m different now, but it’s still me.”

Tucker seemed positively flummoxed for a moment, before a sudden realization smashed into him and shone through his amber eyes. All fear and anger left them, and what was left was something forlorn - a deep sadness.

“No,” he said simply, “Oh God. No.”

“Tuck, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“You...you can’t be back…you can’t.”

“I am.”

“Please. Please just...just get back, please.”

Danny drifted back to the opposite side of the room, near the bed, but never took his eyes off the young man approaching a mental breakdown in the corner. He also noticed, disappointingly, that the ectopistol was still gripped firmly in his friend’s hand. He seemed to be studying something, looking Danny up and down as though he were a puzzle waiting to be solved.

“Okay...alright,” Tucker finally said, “You...you’ve gotta know that, y’know…”

Danny cocked his head and gave a curious expression. Tucker usually stumbled over his words like this when he was nervous or scared, which, yeah he could get that. Danny had his own tick: rubbing the back of his head with his hand. That was one that even followed him into death.

“You’re…” he continued, “You’re just a ghost. You’re not really him.”

Aaaaand there it was. Danny really should have expected this, but honestly he would rather Tucker had just shot him point blank.

“That’s not true, Tuck,” Danny responded, trying valiantly to keep the hurt from seeping into his voice. Thankfully the ethereal reverb helped with that.

“It is,” he responded, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was Danny, “We’ve had seminars; all of the ghost experts agree. Ghosts are just...ectoplasmic entities formed from the consciousness of dead humans. They’re echoes of what the person used to be. You aren’t...you aren’t Danny. You’re what’s left of him.”

“You’re wrong, Tucker,” Danny retorted, and held up a finger when it looked like his friend was about to go on the defensive, “But even if you believe that’s true, then by your logic I’m still the echo of your best friend, an imprint of his consciousness. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

The two stared at each other in silence. At some point, Tucker had begun crying, and Danny wasn’t far from it himself.

“Can you at least hear me out?”

By now Tucker was engaged in an intense staring contest with the floor, “Ghosts are manipulative. They’re selfish and unstable.”

“Well now you’re just being rude,” Danny snarked with a weak grin. He hoped Tucker could appreciate the attempt at levity.

“What I mean is, there’s no way I can know I can trust you.”

“Tucker, you have experience with unstable ghosts because the sane ones don’t go running through the portal like it’s Spring Break. The reasonable ones stay in the Zone and you never hear a word about ‘em over here, so it seems like they don’t exist, but I swear to you they do.”

No response, but Tucker’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, his eyes still boring holes into the hardwood.

“Humans are the same way, y’know,” Danny continued, “What if the only human you’d ever met in your life was Mr. Lancer? Hell, if I thought that’s what all humans were like I’d jump in the portal and lock it from the inside.”

Danny offered a small chuckle, but Tucker’s gazed snapped up to meet his ghostly green.

“You remember Mr. Lancer?”

It was almost like a plea, like Tucker was grasping at anything that could convince him that this wasn’t just some creature wearing Danny’s face. His voice carried a hope that he believed was grounded in futility.

“Of course I do,” Danny responded gently, “I remember Dash shoving us into lockers, I remember Sam changing the lunch menu that week in Freshman year, and I remember a ton of nights in this room watching movies until the sun came up.”

Tucker was now openly weeping, and glowing tears were beginning to cascade down Danny’s face as well.

“I don’t....I just don’t know what...I don’t know what to do…” Tucker choked out between sobs as he collapsed to his knees. Eventually, he felt an icy cold hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see a set of blazing yet compassionate viridian eyes.

“Look, I get it,” Danny said, “I don’t expect you to change everything you believe about ghosts immediately. You don’t even have to believe I’m really Danny. But please, I’m asking you, just hear me out. I need help and you’re the first person I knew to turn to. I swear that I’m not going to hurt you. If you believe anything, please believe that.”

A moment passed before the ectopistol clattered to the ground, and the two boys, one human and one ghost, stood together.

“O-okay,” the human responded, “I’ll listen.”

“Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me.”

* * *

**o-o-o-o**

* * *

Tucker rolled his desk chair over to the bed where Danny sat cross-legged, hovering about a foot above the actual mattress. Danny could see that his friend was still a bit rattled, as the cola can in his hand shook slightly whenever he took a drink, and his eyes could never seem to find a particular place to land.

“Sorry, I just...I’ve never been this close to a ghost before,” he confessed.

“Really? You seemed pretty handy with that ectopistol.”

“Yeah, well, normally I’m behind a computer screen. I’m actually interning for your pa...for FentonWorks over the summer; I.T.”

The verbal backspace was not lost on Danny, but he did his best to power through. He hoped he could assuage some of his friend’s fears over time, but he knew there was no magic wand he could wave to instantly fix things.

“So, uh, speaking of that. The reason I came back,” he began, fighting the urge to rub the back of his head, “I think my parents are in danger.”

Tucker’s eyebrows shot skyward, “They’re ghost hunters, aren’t they kind of...always in danger?”

“Fair point,” Danny conceded, “But they know how to handle that. What I’m talking about is someone targeting them specifically.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I have a friend, a mentor, really, in the Realms. Or, I guess you guys really only know it as the Ghost Zone over here. Anyway, he’s an old ghost. Like, I’m talking _super_ old. Old as the universe at least. He watches over the flow of time, and can see every potential path the future can take.

“He dropped the bomb on me the other day that my parents were in serious danger, or they would be soon, from someone in the material world. Someone from their past. But since he only has so much wiggle room in his whole ‘guardian of the sands of time’ deal he’s got going on, he couldn’t tell me much more than that. So I guess I gotta play ghost detective if I want to keep mom and dad safe.”

“Shit, really?” Tucker responded, “And you think I can help with any of this?”

“Well, like I said, you’re the first person I thought to go to. I haven’t been here, man. I don’t know what the state of Amity is or anything like that. I thought at the very least I could bounce ideas off of you. You said you’re interning with them, right? Have you noticed anything...I dunno, suspicious?”

Tucker shook his head, “No, not really. I mostly handle security clearances for people who need to access their network. Y’know, like the GiW or Axion. I mean I guess there could be someone in one of those organizations that has a beef, but that would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

Danny groaned, “I figured. Nothing’s ever easy.”

Another silence encroached upon the room, the two friends(?) struggling to find anything more to say.

“Look, Tuck, I know this is asking a lot, especially considering the circumstances, but I would really appreciate it if you could do some digging.”

Tucker buried his head in his hands before Danny had even finished speaking, and emitted a long mournful sound that Danny hated to hear from such a normally carefree person.

“Don’t do this to me, please don’t,” Tucker pleaded, “Look I heard you out, and I don’t want anything bad to happen but I just...I don’t know. The ghost of my best friend pops up in my room after five years and the first thing he asks me to do is abuse my security privileges.”

“I’m not asking you to give me their social security or anything, Tucker!” Danny responded, “I just need to know if any of them have a link to my parents outside of FentonWorks. I just need a starting place.”

“I want to believe you, y’know,” Tucker spoke softly, “I really do. I want to believe there’s some of the old Danny in there. But I’ve seen so much pain caused by ghosts. I’ve seen what they’re capable of.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve seen it, too.”

Tucker looked shocked at the declaration, as if he expected Danny to deny the violent tendencies of ghosts. But the Phantom knew all too well how brutal they could be.

“It’s smart that you’re suspicious of me. Ghosts are dangerous, they can do horrible things, and death drives some ghosts way past the breaking point. Full disclosure, even I’m not as stable as I was when I was alive. Ghosts are...extremely emotional beings, considering how we’re formed, so mood swings are super easy to fall into. I have to consciously keep my anger in check so I don’t do things I’ll regret.”

“That’s...not exactly reassuring. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because we’re friends. Or...or at least I think we are. And I feel like you have the right to know that not everything you know about ghosts is wrong. But we’re not inherently evil and manipulative. A lot of us are just doing our best with what we have. 

“Look, if you don’t want to do this, I completely understand. It’s my problem, not yours, and I can’t expect you to just drop everything and immediately be all in. It’s a request, is all it is. If you don’t want anything to do with this, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Tucker once again directed his eyes to the floor, though this time he was clearly lost in thought. Danny knew he was dropping a load and a half on the poor guy, and he truly would understand if Tucker refused. The fact that he was giving this so much consideration in spite of the fact that it was a ghost he was talking to spoke volumes about how much he cared for Danny.

“I’ll do it.”

Danny did a double take. An honest-to-God double take, like in cartoons.

“You...you will?”

“Yeah...yeah, I will. I figure it’s the least I can do, considering…”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Tuck, I hope you don’t blame yourself for-”

“Don’t. Just don’t. It’s painful enough already. But...if you’re telling the truth, I can’t let anything happen to Mr. and Mrs. F. I can’t. I already let one Fenton die because of my stupidity, I won’t let it happen again.”

It was astronomically confusing to have so many feelings conflict so hard within him. On one hand, Danny was indescribably happy to speak to his best friend again, and he owed him endless gratitude for going out on a limb for him like this in spite of everything he’d been told about ghosts.

On the other hand, there was this wall between them now. Tucker didn’t believe he was really Danny, just some spectral copy with his dead friend as a reference point. It burned deep in his core to know that, but he couldn’t begrudge Tucker for it. He just wished there was a way to connect with his old friend, even if it was just for a moment.

“Hey, I know what,” Danny supplied.

“Huh?”

“It’s, what, 5 ’o’ clock? Time for dinner.”

Danny hopped off the bed and, channeling his best shape-shifting technique, willed a bright halo to appear around his midsection. The halo split, traveling along his body and changing his appearance as it went. 

His jumpsuit was replaced by a similarly black button-down shirt tucked into a pair of deep blue jeans. His hair, while still retaining its stark white color, now seemed at least beholden to the laws of physics, and his eyes were a much more human shade of emerald green rather than their usual piercing luminescence. The light blue pallor of his skin too was replaced by a healthy, if a bit pale, complexion, while the pointed ears and fangs had disappeared completely. He looked positively...well, _alive_.

“How ‘bout we head down to the Nasty Burger? I’ve missed that place like you wouldn’t believe.”

Tucker gaped at him with complete and undisguised bewilderment, and could only muster one sentence in reply.

“What the fuck is happening?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, right out the starting gate and we already got characters crying. No ragerts.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support on the first chapter! I was pretty nervous to write my first DP fic so the fact that it got such a positive response is a tremendous relief!
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed this one. There's more to come!


	3. In Which Everyone is Extraordinarily Uncomfortable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From: Squidward  
> To: Spongebob
> 
> Well, here you go.
> 
> In hindsight, I’m not a huge fan of the decision to write this chapter from Tucker’s POV, and from this point on everything will probably be just through Danny’s eyes. It works better to leave the other characters’ thoughts open to interpretation, I think.
> 
> That said, I’m still pretty happy with how this one turned out. Danny’s still trying to acclimate to regular human contact again, but he’s getting his footing and it looks like he’ll be able to focus on the matter at hand soon.

_Okay, Tucker, no need to panic. You’re just casually strolling down the street...alongside the potentially unstable, undoubtedly dangerous ghost of your dead best friend...who has given you the vaguest reasoning possible for his presence. Nothing to worry about, no siree._

_Definitely not the fact that you agreed to actively help said ectoplasmic entity THAT COULD MURDER YOU BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN BLINK YOU FUCKING MORON._

“Hey, man, you good?”

The voice, now painfully recognizable without the otherworldly echo attached, broke Tucker out of his spiraling thoughts and yanked him back to the sidewalk. He hazarded a glance to his right, where the ghost was looking at him with an expression that certainly appeared to be genuine concern. God, that was the worst thing about ghosts, the way they could master outward displays of emotion without feeling any themselves; it was downright cruel.  
  
“Yeah,” he lied. Best not not to be contentious; it might make the thing angry, “It’s just...y’know...weird day.”

 _Smooth, Foley. There’s that famous charisma._   
  
The ghost nodded, its emerald eyes returning to the path ahead, “I get that. Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing today either. But...all things considered, it’s still really nice to see you again.”

‘Again’. The ghost was still hanging onto the idea that it was the _real_ Danny. It still acted as if it was the same person Tucker had grown up with, who he’d shared his deepest secrets with, who he would have trusted with his life. But, and Tucker was loath to admit this, it was kind of understandable. This entity _was_ a recreation of Danny’s consciousness; it still had fragments of what he was, and it even appeared to have some of his memories, which modern science said should have been extremely improbable if not impossible. Those two facts were the only things keeping Tucker together at the moment.

It was why he was willing to entertain the idea that this Danny-ghost, as inhuman and unnatural as it was, genuinely did not mean him any harm. Heck, even the Fentons had occasionally allied themselves with ghosts in the past. Not that they were happy to do it, but occasionally it was the pragmatic thing. Ghosts may be dangerous, volatile, aggressive creatures, but they _could_ be worked with. And if there was one ghost he would be willing to attempt to reason with, it would be Danny’s. From what basic ectology he’d picked up, it was entirely possible that the ghost’s obsession was compelling it to protect what was “his”, and if that were the case, it might not be lying about Mr. and Ms. Fenton being in danger.

“So...what’s been up these past few years?” it asked, probably more to fill the silence than anything, “You said you were working with my folks for the summer. You’re in school, then?”

“Yeah. MIT,” Tucker responded, forcing himself to keep his voice casual.

“Oh sweet!” the ghost exclaimed, “I always figured you’d wind up there. Computer science, I bet?”

“Electrical engineering and computer science, but yeah. I’d like to get into the tech side of the ghost hunting business when I graduate. Mr. F’s been helping me a ton.”

The ghost smiled almost wistfully, “Still likes to blather on about inventing huh?”

“Well, not so much as you might think,” Tucker said, his voice adopting a tinge of sadness, “The whole portal accident really did a number on the whole family. They were...inconsolable at first. Matter of fact, if it weren’t for the threat of ghosts coming through the portal into the material world, they probably would have given up ectology all together.”

“Woah, that’s...unnerving to think about,” said the ghost, “The idea of my parents without their work is like Jazz without her books.”

“Oh well _that_ you won’t need to worry about,” Tucker replied, “She’s in grad school, working on her masters. Trust me, she’s as studious as ever.”

“Of course Jazz would graduate and then willingly sign up for _more school_.”

As the two rounded the final street corner, the destination came into view. The local hangout spot was as popular as ever; greasy food and sugary milkshakes were like flypaper for teenagers. Tucker doubted he would see anyone he recognized, though. Even the folks who were freshmen when he graduated were now likely long gone. That could be a good thing or a bad thing: less people to ask questions about the white-haired kid he’s hanging with, but also no familiar faces to turn to if things went south.

The door chimed daintily as the human and ghost entered the establishment in all it’s kitschy, greasy glory. Though the restaurant was active, the line at the counter didn’t look particularly bad. Good, maybe he could get this over with sooner rather than later. Tucker was about to continue on to the register when he felt a small chill run down his spine, and glanced over at his spectral accomplice.

The Danny-ghost had stood stock-still just inside the restaurant, gazing at the place in reverence. Seeing it like this, Tucker could recognize that even in its “human” guise, it still retained plenty of unearthly qualities. Its eyes were just a little too green, it didn’t breathe, and, at the moment, it wasn’t even blinking.

Plus, the temperature was slowly dropping, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

So, against his better judgment (and as far as Tucker was concerned, his judgment had been quite poor lately), he tapped the ghost on the shoulder.

“Hey...uh, d-dude?” he began tentatively, “What’s up?”

“I just…” the ghost said, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen this place…since I’ve seen _your_ place, or you, or Amity…”

The pair were getting some strange looks from passersby who had to shuffle their way past, but that wasn’t where Tucker’s concern was at the moment. He was more focused on the fact that the ghost’s hair was beginning to float again, and its eyes looked a lot brighter than they did just a few seconds ago.

“Tucker...I’m actually here. This is really happening…”

Speaking of its eyes, they were now darting around, seemingly taking in every aspect of their surroundings as quickly as possible. A small, but noticeable gap emerged between the ghosts shoes and the floor.

“Woah woah woah, calm down there, Spookable Pooh,” Tucker said, gently guiding the ghost to a nearby booth. When he got them there, he noticed the condiments were shaking, and a light layer of frost was beginning to form on the window.

”Uh...so I dunno what’s going on right now but it’s _reeeaaaally_ freaking me out and if you could maybe get a handle on it please without killing everyone here I’d really appreciate it okay thanks-”

The ghost placed its hands on the table and closed its eyes. Tucker froze in anticipation, and his ever optimistic mind was sure it was about to lift the faux-wood surface and send it flying straight through some poor bastard on the other side of the building, but thankfully when the ghost’s eyes opened after an agonizingly long few seconds, they were once again a more reasonable shade of green.

“Oh thank God,” the human breathed, “What the hell was that?”

The ghost ran a hand through its hair, “I guess it all just hit me at once…it’s like I told you, ghosts are emotional creatures. If we get overcome with strong feelings, we can get a little...carried away.”

“But I thought you said you were _stable_ . All we did was walk into a fast food restaurant,” Tucker hissed, but his mouth clamped shut when he remembered that sassing such a horrifically powerful being might not be a great move.   
  
The ghost gave him a glare, but it seemed more sarcastic rather than threatening ( _but ghosts aren’t capable of sarcasm)_ , “A restaurant I went to nearly every day when I was alive. I guess I just...underestimated how emotional being a part of daily life again would be.”

“It looked like you were changing back,” Tucker offered, “To your...uh...normal look, I mean.”

The ghost thrummed its fingers on the table, “Yeah, well, I guess that makes sense...the illusion takes a lot of concentration to keep up.”  
  
Tucker sighed, “Whatever. Is there anything more you can tell me about this whole, I dunno, ordeal? Do you think whatever’s after the Fentons is human?”   
  
The entity shrugged, “That’s what I figure. I was told it was someone ‘from their past’, and since my folks had never actually _seen_ a ghost until the portal opened, it would pretty much have to be a human, right?”   
  
“So what makes you think it’s a GiW agent?”   
  
“I don’t know that it is, but I gotta start somewhere. I figure at least it might point me in the right direction. Y’know, give me a lead.”   
  
Tucker’s brain was running through the likelihood of that plan being successful, grateful for the reprieve from terror. “But it’s also possible you’d be wasting time barking up the wrong tree.”

“Well, what other organizations do they have contracts with?”  
  
Tucker began counting on his fingers, “Well there’s the GiW, and by extension the U.S. government; Axion Labs; The DALV Group…”

“Jeez. Business is really booming, huh?”

“They cornered the market before there was even a market to corner. We always thought they were off their rockers, and maybe they kind of are, but they were ahead of the curve.”

The two sat for a moment in an uncomfortable lull, looking everywhere but at each other. Cash registers chinged underneath the hum of chatter, and cars rolled lazily past the window after leaving the drive-thru. Tucker decided to divert his attention to wiping the frost off the window with napkins from the dispenser. He was less than successful.

“So...uh, do you want to order?” Tucker ventured.

“Oh, well you can,” the ghost said, its hand moving to the back of its neck again,”I’m, uh, not getting anything.”

“Not...getting anything?”

“Well the thing is, ghosts don’t really eat.”

“...”

“You don’t eat.”

“No. You can get something though!”

The ghost’s smile was strained, attempting to project an air of nonchalance, but it quickly faded to a deflated frown.

“This was a bad idea,” it said.  
  
“What do you mean?” Tucker found himself asking.   
  
“Dragging you out here,” the ghost responded, “Hell, coming to you at all. I’m not even a day into this whole who-dunnit thing and it’s already a huge mess.”

“Look, I already said I’d help you out, I don’t know why you’re-”  
  
“You don’t have to help me. You’re scared, you’re uncomfortable, you…” he _it_ sighed, “You’re such a good friend for agreeing anyway, especially given...what you think I am.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to buy into this whole ‘you’re really Danny’ thing.”  
  
“You don’t. But, since you don’t, maybe it would be better to keep our distance,” the ghost slid out from his side of the booth and flashed a small, sad smile, “Look into what we talked about if you want, but if not, no hard feelings.”

Tucker just stared up at h- _it._ The ghost’s brow was furrowed, but in distress rather than anger. And it wasn’t lashing out, or making threats. He’d never seen a ghost so...restrained in not getting what it wanted. Ghosts, in his experience, had very little propensity for subtlety; sure, they could imitate emotions up to a point, but generally in the endgame it was all or nothing.   
  
These emotions _were_ just an act, right?   
  
By the time he’d finished his pontificating ( _Why would you let your guard down around a ghost, stupid?)_ the specter was pushing its way through the double doors and out onto the sidewalk.   
  
And Tucker, like the damn fool he apparently was, chased after.

“Wait! Hold up!”, he cried, ignoring the bewildered stares of the clientele. Once he was outside and felt the musty summer dusk against his skin, his eyes frantically scanned the street. If he hadn’t seen it earlier, he probably would have dismissed the slight flash of light down the nearby ally as a faulty streetlight. But now he knew better.  
  
“D-don’t…” he found himself yelling as he bee-lined for the opening, “Don’t…”   
  
And when he skidded around the corner and past the dumpster, a pair of lime green eyes shone brightly in the surrounding darkness.   
  
The ghost was back in its normal form, all pointy ears and sharp teeth. It looked primal, beastly against the darkening sky, like it could tear his throat out and obliterate his spine in less than a second. And who was Tucker kidding, he knew it could. But none of that held a candle to that suit. God, that fucking suit. The same suit he’d seen in his nightmares at least once a week for the past five years. The same suit that was once worn by the kindest, most genuine person he’d ever known as he met his grisly, torturous, entirely undeserved death with his whole life ahead of him.   
  
He wanted his friend back so badly. 

He had cried earlier, but now all he could do was stare blankly at the unnatural visage of the ectoplasmic entity in front of him. As ethereal as the ghost was, he could still see Danny in it. And it hurt. The pain was so intense he was afraid that if he moved he’d shatter like porcelain and be blown away with the wind. 

If Tucker had been more aware of himself, he might have noted that showing this kind of vulnerability was the absolute worst thing one could possibly do in the presence of a ghost. He had discarded any and all pretense of keeping his guard up, but he couldn’t think straight enough to care. He couldn’t take having the echo of his best friend dangled in front of him like some cruel cosmic joke. He’d spent so long trying just to get back to a state resembling “okay” following everything that had happened, but his psyche wasn’t ready for _this_ .   
  
Then, he felt a cold embrace surround his body, and after an initial jolt of instinctual fear, he realized that something was happening that he never in all his life thought could ever be possible: he was being _hugged_ by a _ghost_. This shouldn’t be happening. They were alone, he was vulnerable, and every single rule of ghost safety was being completely and utterly throwin out the proverbial window. Yet here was this...this creature attempting to comfort him?

And it was working?  
  
Slowly, tepidly, Tucker hugged back. The being was frigid, but much more solid than he ever expected a ghost to be. It seemed like every time Tucker looked at thisbeing, he noticed more and more things unusual about it, not the least of which was its complexity, its intelligence, its...emotions?   
  
This was too much, at least for right now.   
  
“Hey…” Tucker said, slowly removing himself from the ghost’s arms, “I...I’m sorry. I want to help, I really do. Just, give me tonight to think on it. I have a lot of stuff I need to...parse.”   
  
“I understand,” the ghost responded.   
  
Tucker debated with himself for a moment, deciding if what he was considering was really a good idea, but he had been given no reason to believe that this ghost was truly malevolent. Dangerous? Sure. Scary as all hell? Oh yeah. But evil? No, he couldn’t see it. Even through his fear and uncertainty, he believed that to be true.   
  
“She’s at the University of Wisconsin in Madison,” he said, “Jazz is, I mean. That’s where she’s getting her masters. She’s staying there for part of the summer for an internship.”

The spirit cocked its head, and its piercing eyes seemed perplexed. “Oh...okay? Are you saying I should...go see her?”  
  
“I think that might be a good next step, yeah.”   
  
“Well, not that I don’t appreciate the advice, but don’t you think it’s still kinda soon to be going straight to family? I mean, no offense, but with the way you reacted-”   
  
“No, trust me on this,” Tucker was surprised at how quickly his words came out, “Jazz took the accident as hard as anyone, yeah, but she’s also probably the most sympathetic to ghosts out of any of us. It’s actually been one of her main goals to develop a branch of psychology to study ghost behavior. She doesn’t hold the same, uh, beliefs about ghosts that most of us do.”   
  
This time, its smile was grateful, and even through the ghastly glow, the wild white hair, the electrifying eyes, and the razor sharp fangs, Tucker could see pieces of the kid who had been his best friend for the majority of his life.   
  
Was it still truly him? Maybe, maybe not. But it was _part_ of him, and that was plenty for Tucker.   
  
“By the way,” it added, “I noticed that, well, you haven’t called me by my name. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong! I get that it’s probably not an easy thing to do. But for the past few years, I’ve mostly been going by a different name. You can call me that, if it makes you more comfortable.”   
  
“Oh...sure? I guess?”

The specter held out his hand in an exaggerated display, and Tucker found himself cracking a smile despite himself as he accepted the handshake.  
  
“The name’s Phantom. Good to meet you.” 


End file.
